


Beginnings

by WahlBuilder



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Double Agents, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Swearing, set Abundance on fire, twenty headcanons in a trench coat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-10 12:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19504381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: How that thing between Jeff and Dave starts. Or does it?





	Beginnings

Jeff decides to try to get David to talk, and goes in search of him. Asks around a little, goes to Curiosity’s and finds David there halfway to oblivion. He closes David’s tab, hauls him up, doing his most cheerful Rookie voice, and starts on their slow way back to the barracks, keeping a stream of words.

When he deposits David on the bunk (the bottom one), David’s hand grips his shirt and David’s lips press to his neck. Jeff thinks it is just David being uncoordinated, but then David presses his lips again, insistently, and his hands start roaming over Jeff’s body...

Jeff sighs (and sighs again, internally), pries David’s hands away from himself, pushes him down on the sheets, takes off David’s shirt and his boots, while avoiding more touching from David’s side, and covers him with a blanket. Brings him a glass of water and some pills, for the morning hangover. David is already asleep.

Then Jeff gets up on the top bunk and tries to forget about all this.

He lies in the darkness, thinking.

He knows he won’t advance through ranks or be assigned special cases until his training is complete. Until his first seduction is complete. He’s been on a trainee’s paygrade for fucking three years, even though he receives, somehow, a full agent’s salary. (He knows how: Viktor adds the difference from his own salary.)

He has become a tool of leverage on Viktor: the Board bemoans the severe lack of sleeper-trained agents since Viktor became the Director, and they have decided that Jeff is a perfect candidate. He suspects it’s some fucking politics, too: either someone on the Board wants to shame his father—or that’s his father’s doing. Turn his good-for-nothing son into a whore in service of Mother Abundance.

But Viktor refuses. Stalls, makes excuses—Henry told Jeff colorful stories, but he suspects they are only a tiny part of it.

Maybe he should try to take the matters in his own hands. This undercover mission is being run under Viktor’s supervision—but every agent is trained to improvise.

Shadow, he wants to stop causing Viktor problems. Viktor has done so much for him.

What can he get from seducing David? Davie, the good Davie. He’s just a private—but he’s served for five years, and he has lots of interesting connections, like with that old sergeant of his, the deserter. He isn’t stupid, just bitter and drowning the knowledge of the reality in alcohol.

Should Jeff do it? _Can_ he do it? Shadow, the Rookie persona is exhausting as it is, but to maintain it during seduction... He knows a seduction often doesn’t even lead to sex, but he has to be prepared for that possibility.

What would Rookie Jeff prefer? Would he be shy and inexperienced? Yes, probably, though not entirely without experience. He’s probably had some teenage experimenting—and Jeff has to remember that the Rookie is younger than the real him. Okay, fairly inexperienced, and curious, and eager as in anything.

David. Davie.

So bitter and snappish that Jeff sometimes wants to be even more cheerful, just to provoke Davie, to see how far he can push. But Davie holds back. Grumbles, spits acid—but doesn’t raise his voice or his hand on the stupid Rookie.

Davie, with his understanding of the workings of the Army, his rebellion in words—but with his perfect regulation haircut, his perfectly mended uniform and weapons and shield... Soldier’s pride. He has nothing but that.

And the bottle, of course.

The sight of it makes Jeff furious—but what does a Rookie know?..

They are so alike, Davie and the real Jeff. Stuck in their position, in limbo.

Sometimes he wants to kiss Davie mid-rant and tell Davie he knows. He understands.

But he can’t.

...Shadow, he does want to kiss Private Broody. He must be careful. Would Rookie want to kiss Private Ward? Oh yes, definitely. Just look at those shoulders, those arms—Rookie likes all that very much.

But Jeffrey?..

...Jeffrey misses home. Not the property of his father, no—the dormitory in the HQ. Henry’s half-joking, half-serious threats. The Colonel’s praise. Watching both of them work. _They_ fill Jeffrey with pride, not service to Abundance.

Sitting down on the couch in Viktor’s office after a full day of training, and guiltily nodding off while Viktor’s monotonous voice soothes him, lulling him into sleep until he dozes off in the middle of his mentor’s lecture. To wake up later with a jolt—and to find himself covered with a blanket, all lights in the office turned off—except for a single lamp on the desk where Viktor is working. To fall asleep again to the whisper of pen on paper, the quiet tapping of the keyboard.

Sniping Henry’s cigarettes and then coughing because damn, who can even smoke _those_ without their lungs melting? He misses even filling forms for Henry, and the cafeteria kitchen duty. They taught him to cook. Jibes and taunts with others during hand-to-hand—until Viktor tells them to stop wasting their breath. A chance to get thrown onto the mats by Viktor himself, fucking Shadow, he’s so good.

Bringing Henry a milkshake after a venture into the city, and a book for the Colonel. Viktor calling him “Jeffrey”, with that slight downward intonation.

...Shadow, he misses home.

He should stop thinking about them, or it will get worse.

He can’t even have any token of home, because he can’t have anyone discovering it and asking questions. Not his badge, not his black book, nothing.

Is this how Davie felt all these years? A yearning for home that you can visit only so very rarely. The understanding that life is moving on there—while you are stuck _here_.

At least it gives the Rookie another layer of semblance of truth. Rookie is far from home, after all.

“...kie? Hey, Rookie!”

He gets a poke in the ribs and squirms away.

“Rookie. What happened yesterday?”

...Oh. He’s not home.

Jeff tries to put the Rookie persona on before even opening his eyes. “I brought you to the barracks, Dave!” he chirps happily, then turns to Dave.

Dave looks like he’s been chewed a little. Hungover. Jeff glances at the table, and the glass is empty and pills are gone. Good.

“Did something else happen?” Dave looks away and, oh Shadow, Davie is a blusher.

So. It happens, and Davie is into men only when he’s drunk. It’s nothing personal.

“You fell asleep halfway!” he chirps, sitting up. “I had to drag you.”

“What’d you mean, drag?”

“I mean, carry you! You slept so sweetly!” He grins until Dave’s face folds into a frown.

“You’re messing with me.”

Rookie laughs. “You should see your face. But I _can_ pick you up. Hunting moles does that to you.” He flexes his arm.

Dave’s face becomes even redder.

Maybe it _is_ personal.

Jeff knows where to find Davie now, and he gets more and more upset that Davie is killing himself with the drink. So he goes to _Curiosity_ _’s_ again, and hopes there are none of Davie’s “pals” there, because Shadow help him he’s going to crash their pity party and drag Davie by his feet out of there.

But Davie is alone and only settling with his first glass. He frowns when he sees Jeff (when does he fucking _not_ frown?..)

And Jeff stomps to him and puts a hand over the glass. “No.”

“Fuck off, Rookie.”

“No. You are not drinking yourself stupid tonight.”

“I want to, and I will.”

“There are other ways to forget.”

The frown deepens. “I don’t do drugs, Rookie.”

And alcohol isn’t a drug? “I don’t mean drugs, David.”

“Then wha—”

He shuts Davie just like he imagined too many times—by kissing. (Private Ward smokes, too, huh.)

He pulls back nearly right away, looking into Davie’s stunned face. _“This_ is a good way, David.”

They stumble into the back room, making out like it’s the last day of the world. (Need to leave a generous tip for Ethan. Need to—)

He pushes Davie onto the couch and expects some resistance, a little wrestling—but Davie goes down, looking at him with an enraptured expression, his hands gripping Jeff’s hips.

Oh, fuck, so the broody Private Ward likes to be pushed around a little?

“Rookie.” Davie sounds like after several glasses of vodka.

_Rookie_. Right. Maintain the cover.

“What do you want to do, David?” he chirps. What _he_ wants to do is to kiss that frown off Davie’s face, and fuck him stupid, right here, in the back room of a bar, on a couch that’s definitely provided for such purpose.

Davie looks aside, his hand plays with Jeff’s belt. Jeff can’t see properly in the dim light, but he can guess that Davie is blushing.

“If it’s your first time, Rookie, we shouldn’t get very adventurous.”

Oh Shadow. This is ridiculous, Jeff wants to scream.

“Not the first time, David.” He flops on the couch beside Davie. “But it’s not very complicated, is it? I’m just a farm boy, I’m not picky.” He kisses Davie again—and presses the hell of his palm to the bulge in Davie’s pants.

Davie arches up with a hiss.

Jeff puts his hand on the buckle of Davie’s belt, drags his lips over Davie’s cheek. Everything is so hot. “David. Dave. May I? Please?”

Davie’s lips meet his, though it’s not a kiss at all, more like... He doesn’t know, he just wants more.

“Yes. Rookie.”

Davie bites his lips, thrusting into Jeff’s grip, and Jeff wishes the lighting had been better, so he could see everything.

When Davie comes—with a short exhale that Jeff swallows—Jeff kisses Davie’s cheek, wipes his hand on a tissue that is conveniently placed near the couch. Without the usual frown, Davie looks like a stranger.

Jeff gets up.

“Rookie?” Even sounds like a stranger, voice rough and lazy.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

“But you… You don’t drink.”

He doesn’t, in any of his lives. He thinks about his family. “I’m going to get myself a milkshake.” He turns to Davie—trying to sit up, trying to smooth his shirt. “Do you want anything, David?”

Doesn’t even look at him. “Uh. No. I think I’ll go back to the barracks. Don’t… don’t be late, Rookie.”

Jeff smiles the Rookie’s smile. “I won’t. Good night.”


End file.
